


The hole in my vision fills with you

by noero



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: But with Emotions, Keith (Voltron)-centric, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 13:56:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13319571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noero/pseuds/noero
Summary: The first time they sleep together, they are months into their tenure as paladins. Keith lingers in the doorway to Shiro’s quarters, not out of hesitation, but in reverence to the comfort of being somewhere so achingly familiar. Nothing this far from home should ever feel that way, Keith knows, but these things don’t really matter. These are the questions he deems not worth asking, carefully regarded and tucked away, out of sight and out of mind.





	The hole in my vision fills with you

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting unfinished in my drafts for months and I needed to do something with it, even though I feel like I can't write anymore. Thank you to [ackernerd](http://ackernerd.tumblr.com/) and [itsbrigibinch](http://itsbrigibinch.tumblr.com/) for looking through this before I posted and catching my typos and bizarre word choices.

Keith learns at a young age not to ask questions — answers won’t ever come when you’re alone — and it’s wasted breath. Keith instead learns to trust himself, to create his own answers for all the questions he can’t ask. He listens to every feeling, each uncomfortable itch in his chest, even when there’s no physical threat in sight. This is about survival.

When Shiro comes into his life Keith thinks he can let go of all that, just a little. He remembers with warm, unforgiving clarity how in a fleeting moment during his first night in the Garrison dorms when he’s able to say goodnight to someone for the first time in years. 

He asks questions again.

Sometimes the answers are wrong.

\------

The first time they sleep together, they are months into their tenure as paladins. Keith lingers in the doorway to Shiro’s quarters, not out of hesitation, but in reverence to the comfort of being somewhere so achingly familiar. Nothing this far from home should ever feel that way, Keith knows, but these things don’t really matter. These are the questions he deems not worth asking, carefully regarded and tucked away, out of sight and out of mind. 

“You need to be more careful,” Shiro says, calm and patient, like he hasn’t said this to Keith a hundred times before. Shiro wastes far too much time being worried about Keith and it never matters. Keith would rather he not, even if he’s glad he does. 

And Keith comes there to be rooted somewhere, for Shiro to pull him down through the leftover headiness of that high he gets from flying. That haze weighs on him more here, in the absence of wandering eyes. He folds his arms, lips tilting upward. “We got it done, didn’t we?” 

Shiro smiles and Keith notices new lines on his face, the darker hulls beneath his eyes. “Yeah, we did.” 

Keith sighs and closes his eyes. When they’re alone together Shiro’s voice is raw, more tattered on the edges, but no less affirming. His words ground Keith, regardless of what he says, slowing the storm in his mind. He knows he’s wrong for his own part, all in how his recklessness can scare Shiro. He sees it in Shiro’s eyes and feels it at the base of his spine. 

They do this sort of thing often, they talk, look at each other, grasping for something just out of reach. What makes Keith decide to stretch himself just a little further is hard to say. He doesn’t want to ask himself, not this time. 

Shiro pulls off his shirt, his back to Keith and Keith swallows. Compulsion forces him to close the space between them, both violent and calm. He steps forward, wraps his arms around Shiro’s stomach and settles his forehead against the small dip between his shoulder blades without a word. A spot made for him, he thinks. Shiro is warm like sunlight beading through an open window in early spring. The room goes quiet, the cold spilling down Keith’s back while his chest grows warm. This is the first time Keith has held him in such a way. 

“Keith,” Shiro asks carefully, a dangerous touch of apprehension in his voice. “You sure you’re okay?” 

“It’s fine,” Keith murmurs against him, traitorous voice shaking around the corners of his words. “You’re fine. I’m fine.” 

There is silence. Shiro relaxes beneath his arms, his spine curling into Keith’s chest and fingers wrapping around Keith’s wrist. Keith squeezes tighter, greedily, and exhales. Shiro can surely feel his heart beating, fast and strong in his nervousness, but Keith can’t bring himself to be embarrassed. 

He is, after all, prone to extremes. Everything Keith does — everything Keith is — is simply too much. Even as a kid, that raw potential burst at the seams until his life was one explosive mistake after another. With nowhere to go, that energy overwhelmed him, ate him alive, year after year until he’d broken so many things. He was too confident, too careless, too wild. There was so much at once. 

And he loves Shiro just a little too much. 

He rubs his thumb over Shiro’s stomach, slowly inching his fingers down his skin, dipping into the lines of his abdomen and over the deepest scars. Shiro doesn’t stop him. Keith’s heart beats louder, frantic, but he is otherwise quiet, afraid to disturb whatever he’s set into motion. 

Keith has always known Shiro was attractive. However, this ceaseless want Keith has to touch him, hear him breathe, and feel Shiro’s muscles move beneath his fingers stems from something far more visceral. Keith only ever allows himself certain forms of familiarity, but he needs Shiro to unravel him. Shiro is the one who knows how Keith is bolted together, each tight hinge wound one twist too tight, and the only one who can safely remove each jagged piece. 

Shiro reaches over his shoulder and grabs Keith’s jaw, firm but careful, and kisses him. Keith’s belly fills with joy, trepidation, and adoration all at once. He opens his mouth on contact as though they’ve done this a thousand times, no lingering questions or unease. Keith closes his eyes and lets it happen. This tension had built for too long, like a rubber band finally snapping in half, and Keith won’t stop it. He won’t apologize. He deepens the kiss, tongue sinking curiously past Shiro’s lips to taste and ready to swallow whatever he finds. Shiro pulls away and out of Keith’s reach, a tiny frustrated sound slipping between Keith’s teeth instead. 

Shiro turns to pull Keith against him, hands running down Keith’s back, between his shoulders, and along the course of his spine. There’s a soft voice in the back of Keith’s mind, reminding him this could change everything, but he quiets it. He doesn’t need to know why. 

“Staying?” Shiro asks, breathy and low. 

“Of course,” Keith says. He’d never considered anything else. 

It happens in terms that painfully simple, like Shiro's misplaced belief in Keith. They are kissing again, Shiro’s anxious hands pushing Keith’s jacket from his shoulders, their clothes shucked to the ground in-between playful bites. Part of Keith is in a hurry, that part overflowing with that too much of everything, half-scared in his absolute certainty. He’s half-hard and wanting when Shiro’s fingers lace between his to stop their shaking, and Keith lets himself overflow. 

Words don’t seem to form apart from shaky sighs. They make it to the bed, each step a little quicker than the last, and the rest of their clothes end up scattered across the floor. Shiro never asks him to slow down, granting him space and freedom without tethers. Keith rolls onto his stomach and Shiro is above him, bare chest against Keith’s back . Shiro’s mouth hot as he pushes aside the hair on his neck and Keith shivers, fingers clenching the sheets. Each stroke of Shiro’s tongue raises the hairs on his skin, tiny pricks of pleasure echoing down his body. The wet slide of it reminds him that he’s wanted, desired, and that touch is thrilling. He’s wanted this longer and more badly than he even realized. 

When Shiro’s hand wraps around Keith’s erection and teeth bite against the flesh of his shoulder, he knows he’s not the only one. 

Shiro’s strains voice bleeds into Keith’s hair and Keith drinks the sound, willing himself to keep it there where he can recall it whenever he needs. Intuition, ever present in the base of his skull, tells him it may be soon. 

\------

As hard as she tries to mask her fears, Allura is frighteningly obvious when the odds are stacked against them. Keith can see it in the tight line of her jaw and the hard crease of her brow. He can hear it gathering at the bottom of her hopeful words. 

So before they suit up Keith pulls Shiro into an empty elevator, his fingers digging almost painfully into Shiro’s arm. He shoves him against the back wall, dim light just enough for Keith to see him grinning and know he’s not the only one. 

Shiro’s laugh is airy and cool. “In a bit of a hurry there, are we?” 

Keith only grins, fingers impatiently tugging Shiro’s belt loose. His thighs are sore and bruised from the night before and the sting courses through him as he drops to his knees and takes Shiro into his mouth. Fingers, both warm flesh and cold metal, tangle in his hair. He can feel Shiro's cock edging the back of his throat and Keith looks up to watch him, back braced against the wall and mouth slack. He’ll never grow tired of seeing Shiro come, however many times it’s been now. 

None of this is unusual, it’s a recognizable pattern at this point. They always touch each other like it’s the last time. This is how Keith does everything and he doesn’t care. They don’t talk about it outside of closed doors, like letting it loose will make it disappear. The others don’t know. And later Keith will settle his mind against Shiro’s consciousness when they form Voltron, his presence sitting there curled within his thoughts. 

\------

Keith knows something is wrong when he’s running his fingers through Shiro’s hair, as it sits too-long atop his shoulders. Meanwhile, Shiro’s fingers are soft along his back and Keith wills it to feel right. He shuts his eyes and exhales, tilting his head back against Shiro’s mattress to let him kiss along his jaw and down his neck. Shiro’s mouth still tastes like home, even as he’s pulling away from Keith just a hair’s breadth — but enough Keith feels as though there are miles of space between them. 

But he won’t believe anything else when the answers are wrong.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated. Follow me on [Tumblr](http://bottomshiro.tumblr.com/) to see my selfies and meme posts.


End file.
